“Susan, I need you to answer one question.”
She looked at me.
“Please.”
I hesitated.
Then asked the question I’d suddenly become afraid to say aloud.
“Does this have something to do with Robert?”
Susan closed her eyes.
Her shoulders dropped.
And a tear rolled down her cheek.
She didn’t say yes.
She didn’t say no.
But after forty-two years of friendship, I knew her expressions better than anyone.
And the look on her face told me that my husband’s name was at the center of the secret she’d been hiding.
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The next morning, Susan finally told me the truth.
“Robert and I had an affair,” she whispered.
I stared at her, unable to breathe.
“What did you just say?”
“It started eleven years ago, after my divorce. We tried to stop, but…”
“How long?” I interrupted.
